Nightshifted es-1 Page 27

  “Aren’t we all?” Weatherton said, finally righting himself with a dismissive shake.

  “Stop them!” I begged him. Even I could smell the rot in the air, even over the stench of whatever the drainpipe held. “Take it already. Just stop!”

  “Zver,” Koschei warned from the end of my bed, and the sounds of violence stopped. Cold drops of whatever it was—I hesitated to think of it as water when it was so repellent—spattered off him and onto me. They felt like shards of ice, and the skin they touched went instantly numb.

  I—I had felt like that before.

  “Ti!” I cried out, wrenching my hands against the cuffs. A groan answered me. He—part of him, enough of him—was still intact, but much of him was scattered. I saw Sike kneel down and start to shovel things toward his open torso. Intestines.

  “Ti, stay there!” I yelled. Technically he didn’t need any of his organs … but how much of him could they remove and he still stay alive? Or whatever it was that he was? He reached the remains of a hand out toward me. He wasn’t whole, but— “Just stay there!”

  “Keep him down,” Koschei said to his countrymen, returning to my side. From inside his gown, he brought out a canvas roll, as wet as he was from his dunking, and set it on my table. He untied the laces that wrapped it, and it rolled open with metallic clanks. Implements were held inside by straps, tools with ruined blades, like a Civil War surgeon’s rusted operating set. Fluid drained from the case and ran down to me, bone-chillingly cold.

  “Like the Shadows,” I whispered.

  “Shadows are what you all call them. We call them Tyeni,” Koschei said, bringing up a curved tool. He set it between my breasts, in the space that his servant had carved out of my sweater, and yanked it down in a straight line, like an autopsy cut, grinding its tip against my sternum, slicing through my bra. I fought not to cry out. “And when we find your soul, we will feed it to our Tyeni here, and it will power them to life. And we will have our own Shadows, that answer to no one else.” I felt the warmth of my own blood flow down me in a line to cup in my collarbone and then spill into my armpit. Angry nerves sang, raw and open. Koschei leaned over me to leer, angling the blade again. “It might take a while. Souls can be difficult to find.” Another spray of wet dripped from his cuff, landing on my throat. I could grit my teeth through the pain so far—but the cold was like a slap and the shock of it made me gasp.

  And what did Shadows do? Other than collect pain and suffering, and feed off sorrow? I remembered clutching the baby’s crib after the dragon was gone, as cold then as I was now, and how everyone but me and Shawn were made to forget—

  “Anna!” I lifted my head to find her. “Anna! They want you to forget!”

  Koschei rammed his gloved fingers into my hair and shoved my head against the mattress. He rubbed a cold thumb on my forehead. “Of course we do.” His grip on my hair tightened, and he brought his tool up again. “Sometimes, souls live in eyes.”

  “I’m here because I didn’t forget you, Anna! Yuri didn’t forget you, and I didn’t either!” I wrenched my head to the side, out of Koschei’s grasp, and scrunched up my entire face to close my eyes.

  I heard metal hit metal, once, twice, three times—and then I heard a gasp from the surrounding crowd. I waited for a blow that didn’t come. When Koschei let go of my hair, I risked opening my eyes to see Koschei staring over his own shoulder, and I lifted my head to see what it was he was staring at.

  Metal hit metal again—and then the table under Anna collapsed in on itself. She brought her bound wrists together, bending the bed frame behind her back until it shattered. She undid her wrists, one at a time, and kicked her foot bindings free. And when she was done, she grabbed hold of the plate riveted over her mouth and pried it off, like she was opening the lid off a can. Draining sores studded with silver circled her mouth. She spun to address the Zverskiye at large. “Did it occur to none of you to put me on a silver bed?” She leaned over and spit blood into the ankle-deep water before turning toward Koschei with a ragged grin. “Little brother. It has been too long.”

  She leaped for him.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Everything stopped. Then, Anna was on Koschei, stabbing him with the silver plate, and the blade he’d just used to cut me went flying. The operating table I was lashed to spun sideways.

  Koschei’s assistant ran up to my bed. “Where is it?” he asked aloud, picking through Koschei’s remaining tools. He found a short triangular blade and looked down at me. “Where?”

  “Where is what?” My voice cracked in fear as he raised the knife over my abdomen.

  “Your soul—” he answered, slamming the knife down into my stomach.

  It felt like I’d been punched. All the air rushed out of me, and I was left gasping for mercy. “Stop—please—”

  He ignored me and wrenched the blade sideways, sending another wave of pain after the first. He raised the blade, sending my own blood spattering up my chest. I gritted my teeth to stop from screaming at the sight and—

  Another vampire ran up and tackled him, taking him down into the mud. They wrestled, spinning my table again. I tried to lift my head up to see my stomach, but it hurt too much to move. I went stiff instead, staring at the ceiling, listening to the growing sounds of anarchy from all around me.

  The lights began to fade. Gut wounds were awful, messy, tragic, and sweet Lord, I hurt more than I’d ever hurt before, but—how much time had passed? Surely not enough to bleed out. But my fevered logic couldn’t refute the massive darkness descending from above like the belly of a black spider. I knew I was dying. And then I heard the sound of breaking glass as the lights winked out above. From every recess the operating basement possessed, shadows began to multiply and gel.

  A pitch-black drop formed on the ceiling, the height and width of a man, then fell down. I turned my head with a gasp of pain to follow it as it dropped onto running vampires. Both of them disappeared inside of it, pinned like amber-trapped flies. Neither of them came out again.

  Shadows. The Shadows. Keepers of the County, finally come to defend their rights.

  “About fucking time,” I whispered.

  “We come to take back what is ours,” said a chorus of horrific voices, directly into my mind.

  Fighting sounds continued from beside me, sickening wet crunches and pops, the sucking sound of mud taking hold, then giving way. My bed was kicked, and the whole contraption rattled, wheeling around again like a rooftop in a tornado—and for a moment, I could see Anna again. Somehow seeing her made me able to concentrate on her voice, and I listened to her yell above the other chaos.

  “You told them I was younger than you, Koschei. Say you lied! Say they should have chosen me instead! Say it!” She was crouching over Koschei, her hands embedded in his hair, bringing his head down onto the edge of the drainpipe again and again, as he beat at her with broken arms. “Say it!”

  “They should have saved you instead!” he finally howled in defeat.

  Anna stopped. “No,” she said, panting above him, holding him halfway. “They should have saved everyone.” She moved to bring his head down on the pipe again, but shifted him, so that this time the pipe caught his neck. It snapped. She shoved and he screamed, until she ripped him in two. Then she held his head aloft like a Gorgon, showing it to the few Zverskiye who remained. It stared out at us, gasping apologies and blinking, until it collapsed in on itself, scattering dust. The remaining Zverskiye ran away at this, and she ran after them.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The vampire that’d tackled Koschei’s assistant earlier rose up near my feet, covered in dust that stuck to the wet spots on his black robe. He came for me, reaching for the cuffs at my ankles.

  “No!” I kicked as best I could and tears leaked down my cheeks from the pain.

  “Edie, stop it. I’m trying to help!” He held my ankle down and undid the restraint.

  “Who—”

  “Who do you think?” He glared up at me. He wa
s dressed like a Zverskiye, and he also had gloves on—the lines of his face softened for a moment, underneath the crazy beard caked with mud. Another Zverskiye ran forward to stop him. Before I could shout a warning, a wave of Shadow took the new one down.

  “Asher?”

  “Your friendly neighborhood shapeshifter to the rescue.” He undid my wrists, and then looked down at me. “I’m not sure how we’re going to manage this.”

  “How bad is it?” I asked.

  “I don’t think you can walk this off.”

  “Thanks. Where’s Ti?”

  Asher ignored me. “You need to get to a hospital.”

  “We’re in a hospital.” Were my guts going to come out if I stood? That was such a juvenile thing to call them. Guts. Things had proper names, and I knew them—large intestine, small intestine, liver, stomach. I fought to lean up on my arms, and not look down. Things were hurting less, which was probably a bad sign. I looked at the floor where I’d last seen Ti. He wasn’t there anymore. I tried a different tack.

  “Where’s Anna?”

  “I’m not sure. But remind me to never piss her off,” Asher said. He leaned forward and picked me up, one arm beneath my knees, the other behind my back. I hissed in pain.

  “I thought you said it would be like you didn’t know me, next time around?” I said through gritted teeth.

  Asher grunted. “That’s because unlike your zombie boyfriend, I’m not one for stupid heroics. I wasn’t going to try to save you while there were a hundred vampires around.”

  “And now?”

  He scanned our surroundings. “Between your crazy friend and the pissed-off Shadows, we’re down to the toughest thirty or so. The odds now are significantly better.”

  “Put down my client,” said a commanding voice from behind us.

  Asher looked down at me before turning. Do not tell her what I am, he mouthed. I nodded.

  Asher spun us, and Sike was there, covered in gore. “He’s a friend, don’t hurt him,” I explained quickly. Sike looked unconvinced.

  “This is why I don’t help people,” Asher muttered, with an excellent Russian accent. “It never works out.”

  “Where’s Ti?” I asked Sike, changing the subject.

  “I was helping to reassemble him.” She flipped open her cell phone and made a call. The side of her face where she set the phone was covered in blood, and her hands left smears on her coat pockets when she returned her phone into one.

  “Are you okay?” I thought to ask, belatedly.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, flipping a clumped lock of hair over her shoulder. “None of it’s mine.”

  All of what I saw on me was mine, and more by the moment. I stole a glance down, felt dizzy, then crossed my arms and held onto my elbows, scared otherwise I’d touch something I shouldn’t.

  A shadow fell on me, from behind Asher. “Edie.”

  My heart thrilled inside my chest. I should know—I could have reached in to feel it, if I’d wanted to. “Ti?”

  He stepped out and was revealed. My boyfriend was a patchwork quilt of a human being, but that didn’t matter in the least.

  “You’re alive—”

  Lips that were and were not his smiled. “Not technically.” He held his hands out to Asher, who released me to him.

  “I demand safe passage for my services,” Asher said to Sike.

  “Granted,” she said, and he disappeared. She pointed behind Ti and me. “I’ve called a car. Go upstairs, now.” Ti nodded, and turned to follow her commands.

  * * *

  From my vantage point, crushed against Ti’s chest, I could see-smell-feel where meat met meat and watch dust leaking out of each of Ti’s seams. He was like the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, losing dust instead of straw.

  “Who were they?” I asked him.

  “Daytimers. They won’t last.”

  “And then?” I felt him lean forward, to climb us up the observation room’s hill.

  “And then we’ll see.”

  I was quiet while he managed several large steps, navigating a path around pools of Shadows that were actively searching across the ground, with sticky tendrils waving in the air. I didn’t think they’d get us, as I thought the Shadows and I had a deal, but I didn’t want to put that to the test.

  “Stop,” a voice ordered behind us. It sounded familiar. I looked up and saw recognition on Ti’s face. “Turn around.”

  Ti didn’t move.

  “Turn around, or I’ll take your soul where you stand, zombie.”

  Ti squeezed me tighter to his chest and turned. Dren was there, pointing his sickle behind him. “Those things just ate my Hound.” He took a menacing step nearer us, and Ti stepped back.

  Ti answered for both of us. “It’s not our fault you backed the wrong team.”

  “I don’t expect to get paid after this mess—but your soul’s still up for grabs, girl,” he said with a leer. “And I need some recompense.”

  “Don’t do this, Dren,” I whispered.

  “Husker,” Ti began, his voice low in warning.

  Ti couldn’t fight back, not while holding me. And dropping me would only damage me more. We could rush Dren, but then there was still the sickle to account for—

  “Dren, please—” I reached my arm out toward him. Muscles that didn’t connect right in my abdomen anymore twitched and slid out of place. I screamed in pain and my arm fell.

  Drops of blood I hadn’t known were cradled in my hand sprinkled forward with the motion. Dren reached out with his free hand, lightning fast, and caught one in midair. Then while looking at us, he grinned, showing fangs, and brought his hand back toward his mouth, surely to lick from wrist to fingertip.

  He stopped just as I realized I was looking at him. Not through his fingers, but through a hole that had appeared in the middle of his palm, as a portion of it crumbled into ash. His fingers teetered, and then one by one fell down, dusting like so many smoked cigarettes.

  “Your blood—” he began, staring at his hand, transfixed, as the ash crept down his hand.

  “Is spiked with pope water,” I answered him.

  He looked at me for a moment, then reversed his hold upon his sickle, and brought it whistling down—not on us, like I’d feared, but through the meat and bone of his own wrist. The remnants of his hand dusted in midair.

  “Let us pass, Husker,” Ti said. Dren didn’t answer. He was panting in anger, staring at his mutilated arm.

  “How could you husk me without getting my blood on you?” I asked. My hand that wasn’t pressed against Ti found more blood to use as a weapon, just in case.

  Dren put his sickle down. “Later,” he answered.

  I sagged against Ti’s chest. Things were going gray. “Yes. It is.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Ti mounted the stairs two at a time when we reached them. I could see the trail of ash and gobbets of flesh behind us as we made our way back to Providence General’s lobby.

  Zombies don’t have look-away like vampires do. And so while I could see the mass exodus of vampires pouring out of Providence General, no one else could. All they could see was Ti, holding me, as he strode through the bays of the emergency room, shedding ash and meat. People were picking up phones. I hid my face in Ti’s armpit as people tried to take our picture.

  “Stay back!” Ti growled, and the good employees of Providence General did so. We made it to the ambulance entrance, just as a dark-tinted car flew into the drive.

  Ti opened the back door, and we sank into the car together.

  “Drive,” Ti commanded as he closed the door, and Sike’s car raced off.

  * * *

  Ti cradled me to his chest. I clung to him, feeling parts of him sift away like hourglass sand. And then I started to feel like that too—drifting and lost. “Edie, wake up,” he said.

  “Are we there yet?” I asked without opening up my eyes.

  “No. Edie—”

  “Are these my guts, or yours?” I asked
, nestling my head into his shoulder. Moving hurt less and less now. Hooray for me.

  “Mine. Maybe. Edie—just be quiet for a second, will you?”

  “No,” I said, but then was quiet anyhow.

  “Edie, I’ve got to go.”

  “No—”

  “At the meth lab, I’m sure people saw me. But even before that—there’s only so many times you can get burned and survive and your coworkers don’t think it’s strange. Add that to the fact that I don’t age—and that that entire hospital’s staff saw me there tonight, looking like a Frankenstein—”

  “No one believes night shift.” I curled my hand into his chest. He was warm compared to me; I felt so cold. “I’m tired, Ti. You can’t leave me. Not now.”

  “I’ve got to. At least for a while. But I don’t know how long that’ll be.”

  “This—that—that’s not some euphemism for dying, is it?” I looked up at him. His face was blurry, and I didn’t know if it was all his new skin or my tears. “Because you—that’s not fair.”

  “I’m not dying, Edie. Just going. We’ll get you to the hospital first, though. I’m not leaving until I know that you’re okay.”

  “Don’t go.” I hid my face against his chest, felt the flesh there give beneath me. Another wave of exhaustion and chill pulled me down. “We’ll talk about it when I wake up, right?”

  “Good—” I heard him begin, and I knew he was about to say “good night” or “good-bye” but I didn’t hear enough.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  “Human.”

  Things felt strange—but they smelled familiar. Too familiar.

  “Human.”

  Something hit my face, hard. I blinked, and saw a frizzy blond halo looking down. “Human?”